


hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

by flashlightinacave, magnetichearts



Series: in any version of reality, i'd find you and i'd choose you [1]
Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Pining, Quarantine, Sexual Tension, basically uhhhhhh, basically we went feral one night and came up with this, bhargavi went HARD with the sexual tension, highkey delusional but uh, if a rom-com was ever made about covid this would be it lol, it had to happen, leila went HARD with the science, the perfect combination, truly the dream team we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashlightinacave/pseuds/flashlightinacave, https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetichearts/pseuds/magnetichearts
Summary: Devi narrows her eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”He flops on the couch and picks up her remote. “Quarantining, David. You can read, right?”“You’re not quarantining here, are you?"“You are aware of what quarantine means, right? Like, the definition of the word?”Devi picks up one of the pillows on the couch and whacks him firmly in the head with it. “Of course I know what it means, you idiot. Some of us have more than one brain cell.”“Oh what, like two?” he quips, grinning up at her, smug.or; devi's ok at one-night stands, she likes to think. but when quarantine orders come in, a one-night stand turns into a lot more than just that(title from "bubblegum bitch" by marina)
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Series: in any version of reality, i'd find you and i'd choose you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010919
Comments: 21
Kudos: 156





	hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> we share a brain cell so this was inevitable. like, legitimately inevitable. leila went hard on the science, bhargavi went hard on the sexual tension, and we both went hard on the banter cause that's how we roll. 
> 
> this fic is immunology + a ridiculous amount of romantic tropes
> 
> ok but this is actually just an excuse for us to write a roommates au + educate people on proper mask wearing procedures so,,,,,,take that as you may. 
> 
> we switched around the disease in order to accelerate the timeline of quarantine and fudged a little of the government shit, but the science is all good! 
> 
> that's it thanks guys! enjoy!!!

Devi wakes up with a headache and an arm slung around her waist. 

Since the headache is more painful, that’s what she notices first. She groans, pressing a hand to her head, before freezing. 

_Fuck._

It’s not that she doesn’t know where she is. In fact, she has a _lot_ of memories about where she is, about what happened. Good memories, too. Really good memories. 

She’s just hoping that maybe, somehow, those memories are false. That some strange parasite had wormed itself into her brain and made her dream those things. That they didn’t actually happen. 

Her headache lessens a bit then, enough so that she feels like she can open her eyes just the slightest bit. She turns her head. 

No such luck on the parasite. 

Ben Gross is in her bed. Ben Gross’ arm is around her waist. Ben Gross’ head is on her other pillow. 

Devi shrieks.

Ben startles awake instantly, pulled out of the throes of sleep. She kicks away from him, pushing his body off of hers, and nearly falls off the bed in her haste to get away. 

“Wh—what?” he mumbles. 

“Get out!” Devi yells. 

Ben’s eyes shoot open in shock and lock on her. “Huh?” he yells, pushing back himself. 

The thing is, Devi doesn’t have a massive bed, so he ends up falling off the bed onto the floor of her bedroom, thudding to the carpet. 

“Ow.” 

“Get out!” she says again. 

“Dear god, David,” he says, pressing a hand to his forehead. She winces in sympathy. He probably has the same headache she does, and her yelling at him probably isn’t helping. 

The sympathy vanishes once he pokes his head over the edge of the bed, narrowing half-asleep blue eyes at her. “Are you always this shrill in the mornings?” 

“Get. The fuck. Out.” 

Devi clutches the sheets to her chest, well aware she is very, very naked, and that Ben Gross, her fucking _co-worker,_ was just in her bed. And that now he’s on the floor of her bedroom. 

This is too much to handle at—she glances over at her clock—7:15 in the morning. Thank god it’s a Saturday. 

“Ben,” she says, voice shaking. “Get out.” 

“You said that four times, David,” he groans, lifting himself back up onto the bed. Devi decidedly does _not_ look at him as he tugs on his shirt, pushing the sleeves up. “I got it.” 

Devi sneaks a peek at him and sees that he’s fully dressed, thank god, although her death grip on the sheets doesn’t waver. 

She can’t believe she’s turned into _that_ girl, the one who gets drunk and sleeps with her co-worker. 

Devi feels her cheeks flush as memories of last night start to come back, even clearer. What’s even more unfair was that it had been _good._

She pushes those thoughts out of her mind and glares at him. “This never happened, ok?” she snaps. “I don’t need anyone else at the office knowing about this.” 

Ben frowns at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think I do? You flatter yourself.” 

Devi flips him off. “You’re insane.” 

“Pot calling the kettle black.” 

She snarls at him. “Wait here,” she says. 

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Cause I don’t trust you, so I’m making sure that you’re not gonna steal anything from my apartment.” 

“I don’t need to steal anything from this place, David,” he snorts. “I have plenty of stuff on my own.” 

“Rich jackass,” she mutters. “Turn the fuck around, and don’t move.” 

He smirks at her. “Why don’t you make me?” 

Devi reaches over and grabs a pillow, throwing it at him. “Do it, asshole.” 

Ben rolls his eyes, but turns around anyways, facing the door. Devi gingerly slides off the bed, making sure to keep the sheets wrapped around her as she quickly grabs clothes out of her dresser, getting dressed as fast as humanly possible. 

“Ok,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re fine.” 

Ben turns around, smirking when he sees her. 

“What?” she gripes. 

He doesn’t say anything, just taps his shoulder. Devi glances at her shoulder, left bare by the loose shirt, and gasps. 

“What the hell did you do to me?” she screams, looking at the dark bruise on it. 

“I believe that’s called a hickey, David.” 

“Oh my _god,_ I hate you.” 

“Not according to last night, you didn’t.” 

“You’re insufferable,” she says. “Ok.” She steps forward, raising her hands as if to push him out of the room, but reconsiders it at the last second. Touching him is...not exactly what she wants to do, right now. “Get out.” 

Ben smirks and just walks out the door, shoving his hands in his pockets as he does. “Can’t wait to get rid of me? Should I be insulted?” 

“Yes.” 

His hand reaches for the doorknob, lingering on it as he turns to face her. “Uh, thanks, I guess? For last night?” 

Devi raises an eyebrow. “Just—leave.” 

Before he can, though, his phone and hers buzz. Devi pulls it out of her pocket, turning it out so the screen is facing up. 

_Quarantine notice issued in all 50 States due to the H11N5 pandemic. Citizens are advised to stay inside and not leave the house for non-essential items. For more news on the spread of H11N5, click here._

Her eyes flicker up to lock with Ben’s. 

_“Fuck,”_ they say. 

Ben steps away from the door instantly, hand falling away from the doorknob. 

“Well,” he sighs. “Guess that’s that.” 

Devi narrows her eyes. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” 

He flops on the couch and picks up her remote. “Quarantining, David. You _can_ read, right?” 

“You’re not quarantining _here,_ are you?” 

“You are aware of what quarantine means, right? Like, the definition of the word?” 

Devi picks up one of the pillows on the couch and whacks him firmly in the head with it. “Of course I know what it means, you idiot. Some of us have more than one brain cell.” 

“Oh what, like two?” he quips, grinning up at her, smug. 

She digs her nails into her palm to stop herself from strangling him. “You can’t stay here!” 

“Where else should I go?”

Devi falls silent at that. Well, as much as she hates to admit it, he’s got a point there. As much as she likes to claim he is, Ben’s not an _idiot._ Neither is she. The best, and safest option for both of them, really, is to stay here and quarantine. 

She shudders at the thought of staying near Ben Gross, for an unprecedented amount of time, but she has no choice. She’s certainly not going to be idiotic and not follow the rules. She doesn’t hate him _that_ much. 

“Fine,” she manages to bite out. “But you stay _away_ from me.” 

“David, your apartment is about the size of a shoebox. Unless you want me to sleep out on the roof.” 

She pauses, pursing her lips.

“I was joking!” he protests. 

“Don’t test me.” 

With that, she stalks off into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. She leans against it and groans, dropping her head into her hands. 

Quarantined with her enemy/coworker/extremely recent one-night stand. Yeah, this is going to be _fun._

* * *

Devi walks into the kitchen two hours later, finally drawn out of the room by the sound of her rumbling stomach. To her surprise, Ben’s already sitting at the kitchen counter, scrolling through something on his laptop, coffee in the pot. 

He made coffee? What’s his game plan here? What did he want from her?

She squints at him as she grabs her mug, blue with white polka dots. “Where did you get that? Your laptop?” 

He glances up at her, and a pink flush spreads down his neck. “We, uh, we took my car here last night, and I had an overnight bag and my work things in there.” 

Devi feels her own cheeks heat up at the memory. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

She sips her coffee, and taps her fingers on the ceramic, trying to think of a way to diffuse the tension. “Did the office email us about anything?” 

He nods, not looking up from his screen. “Zoom meetings for now. Still at the same time as regular meetings, we’ll just be talking about everything online.” 

Devi nods. “Well, you can take the guest bedroom, and I’ll have the meetings in my bedroom. We will _never_ appear at the same time, ok?” 

Ben groans. “David, this is way too complicated. Seriously?”

“I don’t want anyone else to know that we’re—quarantined together. It would destroy my reputation.” 

“It wasn’t exactly stellar last year. After the company Christmas party?”

Devi stiffens at the memory of that night—when she and Ben had gotten into a shouting match in front of the partners. They’d found it funnier than anything else, thank god, but she’d been worried for _months_ about making another misstep. 

“Well, still. Just, try to avoid me as much as possible, and we’ll be good.” 

She glances up at Ben and notices his face is slightly contorted and—oh no is he…. pouting? This is the last thing she wants to deal with. She doesn’t need—feelings about this.

He is still focused on whatever is on his laptop screen. “I really _can’t_ leave?”

Devi gives him her most pointed glare and sighs exasperatedly. “No, Ben, you can’t leave. You and your single brain cell understand how viruses work, right? Just because this pandemic is caused by an influenza virus that doesn’t mean it’s any less deadly.” She takes a sip of her coffee, pushing down the desire to hurl her mug and its contents directly at Ben.

“Influenza can sometimes trigger fatal immune responses known as a cytokine storm, and while normally cytokines are an essential component of the immune response, releasing too many at once can lead to multiple organ and tissue damage and can be fatal. This means that influenza viruses have the potential to be just as, if not more, deadly in younger patients. So no, Ben, you can’t leave.”

Ben raises his hands defensively. “Relax, David, I was joking.”

“I honestly couldn’t tell, you’re so dumb, there was a risk that you might be serious.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got a great impression of me, haven’t you?” 

“Rich, straight white guy in a corporate job? Yeah, I’m sure you’re a _wonderful_ person.” 

Ben smirks up at her. “Wow,” he drawls, “I’m glad to know that’s what you really think of me.”

Devi suppresses the urge to whack him, she’s already done that far too many times this morning, and seethes, “shut up, Ben!”

Ben quirks an eyebrow at her. “How do you know so much about immunology anyway?”

“I’m well-read and educated, unlike you, Gross,” Devi quips, with a sly smile. “I took several immunology courses and read a bunch of books in college.”

“Of course you did.”

Devi tosses her cascading hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, I guess it ended up benefiting me in the long run, didn’t it? Now I actually know how to handle this type of situation.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben’s eyes glint with intrigue, as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Who said I didn’t know how to handle this type of situation?”

Devi raises an eyebrow. This is—different. They usually challenge each other at the office, sticking strictly to professional topics, never straying from that. But here—it’s a different playing field, a new court entirely. 

She’s still going to win, though. It’s her home. She has the advantage.

“The fact that you just asked me if you really can’t leave makes your ignorance perfectly clear, Gross.”

“As I said, David, I was kidding. I also took a few courses on immunology in college, you’d be stupid not to have a basic understanding of how diseases work, given the state of our world.”

Devi rolls her eyes. “Well, it looks like it didn’t work for you, given your current cranial capacity.”

“Are you just going to make jokes about my intelligence or are you capable of finding new material?”

“Why would I find anything new when there are so many jokes to make?” 

“Creativity, David. Though you don’t have much of it, seeing as your apartment looks more like an Ikea showroom taken over by a 12-year-old girl than an artistic haven.” 

Devi’s grip tightens around her mug. She wishes it was his neck. 

God, how did she _ever_ find herself attracted to him enough to _sleep_ with him? Devi makes a mental note to drag her friends out with her the next time she goes out—though, by the way things are currently looking, it seems like it’ll be a _long_ time before that ever happens again. 

Low lighting makes everyone look more attractive, doesn’t it? That’s got to be the reason.

“Are you going to get any work done, or are you just going to sit here and stare at me for the rest of the day?” Ben says dryly, snapping her back to reality. 

“I was not staring at you!” 

She kind of was. 

He looks up at her underneath unfairly long lashes, smirking. “It’s fine, David. I get it. You were captivated by my good looks. It’s a thing that happens to women around me.” 

Devi scoffs in disgust and turns around, dumping the rest of her coffee down the drain before rinsing her mug and tossing it on the drying rack next to the sink. “You wish, Gross.” 

She doesn’t even wait for his response before ducking back into her room, opening her own laptop and getting to work.

* * *

Ok, here’s the thing about living with Ben Gross. 

He’s an annoyingly good roommate. 

He’s ten times the cleaner she is, so her living room and kitchen are never a perpetual mess anymore. He’s quiet, not very disruptive with his music and when he gets up in the morning. They don’t share a bathroom, _thank god,_ since her bedroom, as the master, has its own, but she thinks his is ridiculously neat as well. 

He pays for all of his own shit too, which, she has to admit, she finds _incredibly_ appealing. She hates floating people. 

The first time she came back from the grocery store, the day their quarantine started, she’d tossed him a bag.

“What’s this?” he’d asked. 

“Clothes, Gross. You need them, don’t you?” 

“They’re polyester.” 

Devi had rolled her eyes and stomped off to her bedroom, irritated at his clear lack of gratitude, but the next day she’d awoke to a neat check written out to her and a _thank you_ scrawled on a napkin, so. He’s not a _total_ dick. 

Some package of another is always coming to her house, filled with clothes and soap and various other necessities, and she realizes, over the course of two weeks, that her place is starting to look more like a _couple_ lives there, rather than a single woman. 

The thought horrifies her so much she locks herself in her room for a day straight, claiming she has work to get done. 

But, overall, it’s not a bad experience, living with Ben. He’s still a dick, and they bicker over _everything,_ from TV shows to food, to the best way to make an omelette to politics, but it’s still not bad. She’s had several roommates over the years, and she’s slowly coming to the sinking realization that _Ben’s_ the best one she’s ever had. 

There is, of course, just one problem with the whole thing.

She’s still—maybe, just a little bit, a tad, fractionally, really—attracted to him. 

It doesn’t really _help_ that they’re living together. Like, not at all, in fact. 

She still grits her teeth when he smirks at her, but lately, she’s been wanting to kiss the smirk off his face instead of slap it. 

Dear god, what is _wrong_ with her? 

It doesn’t help at _all_ that he also has like, the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen, bluer than blue, not the watery kind of blue she’s seen in other blue eyes, but a dark, ocean blue. When he’s bickering with her they glint like the edge of a broken bottle, sharp, wickedly enticing, and Devi fucking _hates_ it. 

She denies it, though, denies basic biology and chemistry for the first few weeks they live together, ignoring the way he smells of sandalwood whenever he reaches over her to grab a slice of toast, ignoring the way he bites his lip when he’s concentrating, ignoring how nice his laugh sounds when he laughs at the jokes she makes about him. 

It turns her inside and out. It doesn’t make any sense, really, why she’s so conflicted. She _did_ sleep with him. Biologically, her body found his attractive. That did happen.

But deep down, it’s all just hormones. Just a confusing unwanted biological cocktail. She can justify sleeping with him as just the result of estrogen. Any lingering attraction she feels is an amalgam of dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin. And her growing attachment to Ben as a roommate? That’s just a combination of oxytocin and vasopressin. Science can explain it all away, so she sees no point in lingering on it.

But it’s a lot harder to ignore, a lot harder to find a biological justification for everything she’s feeling, when he’s _everywhere._

Soon, though, it’s _impossible_ to ignore, and it all happens on a Saturday. 

Devi wakes up unusually early that day, having had an exhausting day full of meetings before and collapsing into her bed the second she was in her room. She stretches and rolls over, rubbing her eyes and looking at the alarm clock. 

Ugh, 7:30. Who else was up this early on a Saturday? 

Devi drags herself out of bed and into the bathroom, splashing water all over her face and trying not to fall asleep as she brushes her teeth. She sighs, looking at herself in the sink. 

Another day of lounging around the house trying not to die of boredom while she avoids her “roommate” and binging shitty 90s sitcoms. It’s getting to the point where she’s watching sitcoms in other languages. 

Indian serials are...interesting, to say the least. 

Devi pushes those thoughts out of her mind and shuffles out of her room, blearily rubbing at her eyes as she heads to the kitchen. 

She’s stopped, though, when she crashes straight into Ben. 

‘What the fuck?” she squeaks out, already falling back. 

Devi grabs onto the nearest thing, which happens to be Ben, and manages to clutch onto his shoulders. His arm comes up and bands across her waist to keep her from falling, pulling her flush against him. 

Suddenly, they’re face to face and—

Ben’s warm, and he’s just come out of the bathroom, and Devi does _not_ want to think about why the whole plane of his chest is pressed against hers.

His skin is covered in a thin sheen of water, towel wrapped around his hips. He smells strong, clean, and sharp. 

Devi kind of wants to stab herself. 

She forces herself to look at him in the eyes. Her fingers slip against his skin, clearly still wet from just having gotten out of the shower. “Uh—” he starts.

“H—hi,” she stammers. 

Devi feels her heart race in her chest as she stares at him. Her hands are still on his shoulders and she can feel the warmth of his body from where it bleeds through her shirt, and she should _really_ extricate herself from this situation as soon as possible. 

Ben’s other hand comes up and presses between her shoulder blades, fingers brushing the skin of her tank top, and despite having literally had sex with him, this feels more intense, somehow. 

God, neither of them is wearing _nearly_ enough clothes, _holy shit._

He smells even more of sandalwood right now, right under her nose, and she shoves down the irrational urge to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in. 

“W—I thought you would be asleep,” he says. 

Devi wants to move her hand from where it’s pressed against his chest, but she can’t—it’s trapped between the two of them, so she tries to focus on him. This is a problem, because then all she can think about is maybe pulling herself closer to him and following that stray droplet’s path down his neck with her tongue. 

She’s going to hell, for sure.

 _Serotonin, norepinephrine, dopamine_ she repeats in her head like a goddamn mantra. That’s the only reason she wants to pull him closer.

Devi bites her tongue to stop herself from saying something dumb, refusing to let her eyes flicker from his.

“I woke up early today,” she manages to choke out. 

He nods stiffly. “Oh.” 

Devi can’t breathe, her eyes roaming over his face. His pupils are blown wide, a ring of blue around a black hole, and they look the exact same way as they did _that night._

Except Ben’s not her co-worker right now. He’s her roommate, and—kinda her friend. Sleeping with him now would be a _million_ times worse than before. 

Or a million times better. 

She pushes those thoughts out of her mind and shoves her hand against his chest gently. He lets go of her instantly, and she stumbles back, staring at his face and not lower. 

“I’m just gonna—” she says, jerking her thumb towards the kitchen. 

Ben nods jerkily. “Right. Yeah. Bye.” 

At that, she turns and flees on her heels, eyes slipping shut in embarrassment only when she hears his bedroom door close. 

Devi groans, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Oh, _god._ What has she gotten herself into?

Ok, she can handle this. She just—needs to draw the lines. Needs to establish boundaries, and not spend more time with him than absolutely necessary. Which, really, isn’t any time at all. 

Even as she promises herself this, though, she knows she’s not going to be able to keep it. 

The problem is, Ben’s kind of her friend, and he’s funny and sarcastic and—she’ll never tell him this—somewhat smart. She likes talking to him, likes being around him. 

So, she’ll just suffocate these feelings, bury them deep deep inside of her and hope they don’t resurface. Plus, at the end of the day, all of this is just hormones and chemistry. Pure physical attraction. There aren’t any _actual_ emotions there. 

* * *

She isn’t sure quite when it starts, but she and Ben make a routine of watching movies together.

Alright, that’s kind of a lie, she knows exactly when their movie-watching routine started. It started when she was lounging on her living room couch scrolling through Netflix annoyed that _Contagion,_ a film she knew was horrifically scientifically inaccurate, was still number one on the Netflix top ten list.

Devi groans, both internally and externally upon noticing this.

Ben who is sitting at her kitchen island as if this was his apartment as much as hers looks over at her. “What?”

For a moment she forgets what she’s going to say when she glances over at him, how comfortable he looks in the space. After almost a month of living together, of being pretty much the only person she sees outside of work Zoom calls and the occasional FaceTime with her mother, she’s gotten used to having him around. She doesn’t even notice him in her space anymore. 

She looks back at the screen, though, and remembers.

“I can’t believe _Contagion_ is still the top film on Netflix.”

Ben shrugs. “People are probably watching it because it’s similar enough to the situation we're all in.”

“Except it’s not similar at all,” Devi shoots back, “all of the science in that movie is terribly inaccurate.”

Devi remembers having to write a paper analyzing the science in _Contagion_ for one of her immunology courses in college and using it as an opportunity to tear the film apart. It had been _too_ much fun.

Ben turns away from his laptop to face her more directly. “Didn’t they work with an epidemiologist when they wrote the film to try and achieve scientific accuracy?”

Devi rolls her eyes. “Well, whoever that epidemiologist is, they’re terrible at their job.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to know this, David, but the writers have to dramatize some things to make the film more entertaining. It’s called artistic license.”

“There’s a difference between entertainment and blatant misinformation.” Devi raises an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t seen the movie, have you?”

“Of course not,” Ben scoffs, “I have much better things to do with my time.”

“I’ve made up my mind, we’re watching it now.”

He furrows his brow at her. “We?”

“Yes, we. Did you not hear what I said, or is your auditory cortex damaged now too?”

“Sorry.” Ben frowns slightly at her. “You want to watch a movie with me?”

“I don’t want to watch a movie with you, idiot. I want to point out all the scientific inaccuracies so I can prove you wrong once and for all.”

Ben shuts his laptop and cocks his head. “Alright,” he says, hopping off a stool in her kitchen island and making his way over to the couch. “Challenge accepted.”

Devi ignores the way Ben’s blue eyes gleam when he takes a seat next to her, and she grabs the remote, curling her legs underneath her.

She queues up the movie and they make it approximately five minutes in before she’s pointing out the first scientific accuracy.

 _“Contagion_ makes the same mistake as every other zombie apocalypse or disaster plague movie. You can’t have a virus that’s both incredibly infectious and deadly or the virus would kill all its hosts.”

Ben quirks an eyebrow, stretching his arms over the back of the sofa. She ignores how his t-shirt pulls taut at his shoulders. He frowns at her, extending his legs out in front of him. “Well, unless the virus can spread through corpse transmission.”

Devi crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes at him. “Ben, how many viruses can you think of that spread through corpse transmission? Especially airborne ones.”

Ben blinks at her a few times, clearly confused, much to Devi’s satisfaction. 

“Sure, a waterborne disease or that can spread through bodily fluids can spread through corpses, but an airborne disease cannot.”

“How do you know this disease is airborne?” 

Devi sighs exasperatedly. “It affects the lungs, Ben. What do you think the mechanism of transmission is?”

“Well, you’re talking so much, David, I haven’t had a chance to pay attention to the movie at all.”

They make it another few minutes through the movie before Devi feels the need to point out another jarring inaccuracy. “Another issue with this—”

Ben groans, flopping back on his—no, not “his,” just the side of the couch he’s chosen to occupy—side of the couch. “What now, David?”

He turns his head to look at her, but the sparkle in his eyes belies his annoyance. For some, strange, odd reason, he wants to listen to her, and this emboldens her to continue talking.

“The causal chain of spread is not this direct, touching a contaminated surface does not guarantee infection.”

Ben taps his temple. “It doesn’t _not_ guarantee infection though.”

“Well, it could if the viral load is small enough,” Devi says, unable to keep from smirking. “Viruses decay over time, the same way radioactive substances do, a small viral load isn’t enough to produce a full immune response.”

“David, that’s completely unrelated to your point on the causal chain.”

Devi ignores his challenge and continues on her rant. “This movie and all others are way too concerned about fomites. The easiest way to mitigate the spread of infectious airborne pathogens is physical distancing and proper mask usage. Which,” she holds up a hand, ”is yet another flaw, none of the characters, except the scientists studying the virus, are wearing masks.”

Devi stops talking when she feels Ben’s eyes on her. She doesn’t know how long he’s been studying her rather than the TV screen, but it makes her slightly uncomfortable. 

Ben’s gaze on her is piercing, fascinated. He’s almost childlike, in that way. When something grabs his attention, it grabs it entirely. And lately, she’s been the one feeling the full force of his eyes.

She turns to face him, drawing her knees up to her chest as her brown eyes meet his. It’s not something she likes to admit, but she finds the vibrant, brilliant blue of Ben’s eyes captivating, to say the least. They remind her of the star Rigel. She knows blue in space is a rarity. Blue stars are hotter, they burn through their fuel faster, and are seldom found, before they ignite into a supernova. His eyes lingering on her feel like just that, the explosive death of a massive star deep within her soul.

Devi’s loved the stars, ever since she was a little girl. She’s always found herself fascinated by them, fascinated by the possibility of something _more._

And yet, the infinite boundaries she finds in the night sky pale in comparison to the ones she finds in Ben’s eyes.

* * *

Devi crosses her legs on the couch, feeling guilty as the call loads.

It’s been a while since she’s talked with her best friends, texting supplementing their daily chats. She usually doesn’t go very long without talking to them, and it’s been a _month_ since they last talked, at least, in a form other than text. 

Their faces then load on her laptop, slightly grainy, but there. 

“Hey guys!” 

“Devi!” Fabiola says. “It’s been forever.” 

Devi winces. “I know, it has. I’m sorry.” 

Eleanor smirks. “I’m sure Fabiola’s doing fine. She’s shacked up with Eve.” 

Fabiola rolls her eyes. “El, nobody calls it shacking up anymore. We live together.” 

Eleanor smirks. “Yeah well, you’re still banging a hot tattoo artist while the rest of us are living in a pathetic drought.” 

“We live in LA.” 

“And?” 

“And you’re an actress,” Devi says dryly. “What kind of drought are you living in? Don’t you have assistants or shit?” 

“I think that’s only for like, really famous actors. Or movie stars.” 

“Are you not a really famous actor?” 

Eleanor pouts. “Whatever. The point is, Devi and I are going through a drought while Fab is getting all of the action. This is like, unfair.” 

“Hey Devi?” Ben says, knocking at her bedroom door before opening it. “What do you want for dinner?” 

Her eyes widen and she fumbles with her touchpad, managing to mute her laptop and shove it to the side. “I’m on a call!” she hisses. 

Ben raises his hands up in surrender. “God, you’re tense,” he mutters. “It’s past 6 pm, what are you doing on a work call?” 

“I’m on with my friends?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll just make pasta.” 

He shuts the door behind himself, and Devi sighs in relief, rubbing her forehead with her hands. She grabs her laptop and unmutes the call again. 

“Sorry guys.” 

By the way they smirk at her, Devi knows she’s not getting off easy on this one. 

“Devi,” Eleanor says, in a sing-song voice. “Who was that?” 

Devi bites her lip. “Hmm?” she says, trying to play dumb. 

Fabiola grins. “That voice. Sounded like a guy.” 

“I don’t know what you guys think you heard.” 

“You’re actually the worst liar on the planet, Devi. Like literally, the _worst.”_ Eleanor crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow. 

“Devi,” Fabiola repeats. “We won’t judge.” 

“Yeah, you will.” 

“Ok,” Fab concedes. “We will, but we wanna hear who we’re judging you about.” 

Devi closes her eyes. “It was Ben,” she mutters, barely loud enough to hear herself. 

Eleanor starts cackling, right away. “Oh, this is too fucking funny, I’m getting the rights to this, right now, and making it into a screenplay. Can you _imagine_ how much money I would make?” 

“Stop trying to profit off of my misery, Eleanor,” Devi deadpans. 

“Wait, I’m confused,” Fabiola says. “Why is Ben at your place? Aren’t you guys following quarantine?” 

Devi casts her eyes down to the bottom of the screen. “We are,” she mumbles. 

“So then...why is he at your place?” 

Devi groans, grabbing a pillow and slamming her face into it. “Because we slept together the night before quarantine started,” she says, voice muffled by the pillow. 

Eleanor starts laughing again, and when Devi gingerly pulls the pillow away from her face, she sees Fabiola staring at her, a confused expression on her face. 

“I’m _so_ confused,” Fabiola says again. 

“But why, Fab?” Eleanor says, dissolving into more giggles. “They slept together the night before quarantine and now they’re stuck living together. Oh my god, this is _amazing._ I can’t believe you guys finally gave in to all that sexual tension between you.” 

“But I thought they were already sleeping together?” Fabiola asks. 

“What?” Devi screeches, before she remembers Ben is right outside the door. “What?” she says again, a little quieter. 

“You never shut _up_ about him, Devi. Like, on and on and on about his stupid suits and stupid blue eyes and how annoying he was and how he’d steal your clients and how he was your biggest rival. God, even without him there, I could feel it. You wanted to jump his bones.” 

“Ugh, El!” 

“You mean they just started hooking up?” 

Eleanor nods. “Yeah.” 

“We have not been hooking up! It happened once!” 

Eleanor smirks. “Was it good?” 

“We are not talking about this.” 

“Oh yes, we are,” Fabiola grins. “When are you gonna do it again?” 

Devi’s mind is spinning. This conversation is about _her,_ and she doesn’t even feel like she’s a part of it. 

“Why did you think we were already sleeping together?” 

Fabiola snorts. “Please. All that sexual tension coming off of you? A robot could sense it.” 

“Ben and I do not have sexual tension!” Devi snaps. 

“Devi,” Eleanor says, pseudo-mockingly, “you can’t say you don’t have sexual tension with a guy you had sex with. And want to have sex with again, it seems like.” 

“I don’t want to have sex with him again!” she hisses. 

“Now that, right there, that’s a lie.” 

Fabiola crosses her arms. “You mean to tell me in the month since you two hooked up, having been living together and seeing no one else for hours on end, in that tiny little apartment of yours—” 

“My apartment is not tiny, God!” 

“—you haven’t thought about sleeping with him again _once?”_

Devi stubbornly juts out her chin. “No.” 

“Statistically, that’s improbable,” Fabiola says, tapping her chin. “Especially since you haven’t done anything of the sort since. I’m assuming, of course.”

Devi wrinkles her nose. “God, no.” 

Eleanor snickers. “Oh, man, I can’t imagine how bad the tension must be getting then. Part of me wishes I was there to see it and then the other part of me knows I couldn’t handle it.” 

“There is no sexual tension!” 

Eleanor raises an eyebrow. “What did we say about you being a bad liar, Devi?” 

“I can’t believe you guys,” Devi groans. “There’s nothing going on between me and Ben. There can’t be. We live together—temporarily. Do you know how bad it would be if we slept together?” 

“So that’s the only reason why. It’s not because you don’t like him.” There’s a question interlaced in those facts, and Eleanor leans forward, propping her chin upon her hands as she stares at Devi. 

Because she _can’t_ say she doesn’t like Ben. She _does._ She likes the fact that he’ll listen to her complain about scientific inaccuracies in plague movies, and make her coffee in the morning. She likes that when she wakes up on the weekends he’s made breakfast and that he chews his bottom lip when he’s thinking about something. She really, _really_ likes the way he smiles and the way his eyes glint when he’s about to challenge her. 

And if her memory serves her correctly, she really liked the way he kissed her and touched her and made her feel. 

Devi sighs. “Guys, the bottom line is that it would get too complicated, ok? We live together. We see each other all the time. If—if it went wrong? I don’t even want to _think_ about how awkward that would get.” 

Eleanor frowns, for the first time a bit of sympathy coming off of her. “That sucks, Devi.” 

Devi waves her hand. “It’s not a big deal. Let’s talk about something else. I want to know what’s going on with you guys.” 

Clearly, they want her to talk about it more, but they let her drop it, and Eleanor launches into an explanation of her newest job, and Fabiola talks about what it’s like living with her girlfriend 24/7 now. 

She drowns out the outside world and focuses on her friends, finds a little peace in talking to them for the first time in a month. 

* * *

Devi is about five seconds away from losing it. 

Not that anger’s a new feeling, she’s incredibly hotheaded, she always has been, but she’s been better with her temper recently.

But this? This crosses a line, makes her blood simmer and boil in a way she doesn’t remember since high school when she was throwing textbooks out the window and smashing beakers in chemistry class. Devi’s like an exothermic reaction in her anger, explosive, heated, and volatile.

Ben senses that she’s upset the minute she stomps—no, seriously, she stomps like a petulant child—into her apartment.

He’s seated at her kitchen island typing away on his laptop when he looks up at her, his expression immediately shifting from smugness to concern. “What’s wrong?”

Devi ignores him, sets down her bags of groceries, washes her hands, removes her cloth mask from her face, and washes her hands again. Because she, unlike some people, isn't a goddamn idiot about this pandemic. 

She puts away the groceries, still ignoring the concerned expression she catches on Ben’s face every time she glances over at him, and washes her hands once more for good measure. Once she’s done, she flops ungracefully down on the couch.

Before she even realizes it, Ben is sitting next to her, still studying her with concern. “Devi, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Devi bites back, kicking the floor with her foot. 

Ben regards her suspiciously and clicks his tongue. “You’re a terrible liar, you literally stormed in here.” He looks at her with his wide, stupidly blue eyes. “What’s wrong?” he repeats.

Devi huffs out a deep breath and turns to face Ben more directly, curling her feet under her. “A bunch of idiots at the grocery store weren’t wearing their masks.”

Ben quirks an eyebrow at her. “That’s why you’re so angry?”

“Masks reduce the rate of transmission of airborne viruses by 70%, Ben. 70% goddamn percent! That’s pretty significant if you ask me. So yes! That is why I’m so angry!”

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Devi…”

“I’m just…” she groans dramatically, “tired of everyone turning this into a political issue, viruses don’t care about your politics. I mean, and you know _I_ don’t care about politics, but come _on.”_

“The idea this pandemic has turned into a political issue is completely ridiculous,” Ben agrees.

“Right? The main problem is people don’t care about masks because they’re not personal protective equipment, but that’s not their purpose! It’s about protecting others from infection.”

She notices Ben’s eyes on her and that he’s not offering advice or opinions or criticism. He’s just listening to her vent. It’s nice actually, having someone who’s willing to just listen.

“Look,” she continues, “I don’t wear a mask to protect myself from getting the virus, I wear one because I’m not an asshole.” She watches Ben open his mouth as if to say something, but raises her hands to stop him so she can continue. “Okay, granted, I am _sometimes_ an asshole but not about stuff like this, this is the type of thing I won’t be an asshole about.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Ben says, smirking, “you are a little bit of an asshole…” He taps his chin. “Sometimes.”

Devi feels a small smile spread across her face at his obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere. “Glad to finally know what you really think about me.”

“Oh, David,” he says his eyes twinkling, “I’ve been perfectly candid about how I’ve felt about you since day one.”

Devi ignores the way her heart twists at those words because she’s not—that bad at picking up signals, is she? Physical attraction aside, Ben’s made no indication he likes her as anything more than a friend, and he is—he _is_ right. He’s always been honest with her. 

She sighs. The least she can do is be honest with him about how this is making her feel. “It’s not just that people aren’t wearing masks, it’s that no one knows how to wear them properly. Half the people I run into in public have their mask hanging off their chin, which is—just ineffective. Not to mention, some people are delusional enough to believe that you can take your mask on and off in public without completely contaminating it. I’ve seen so many people posting photos on Instagram or making Tik Tok videos without masks. Like, you’re all insane!”

“Hmm...” Ben adjusts his position on the couch and his next words catch Devi completely off guard. “I’m sorry I made you go get groceries, I feel like I should have done it.”

Devi ignores the way his earnest tone makes her stomach feel warm. “Trying to be my knight in shining armor, Gross?”

Ben tilts back his head and laughs, the sound ringing through the air. “Nah, you’d never let me.”

Devi looks at Ben then, like really, truly looks at him. His hand lays close to hers on the couch, and it shocks her when he shifts, moves it just a bit so it covers hers. “I’m really sorry about those people,” he says.

Devi rubs her eyes with her free hand. “It’s not about me so much as it’s about other people, Ben. Babies, the elderly, immunocompromised people. It’s just—you can’t be selfish about this kind of thing.” 

Ben’s hand tightens over hers. “Is there anything I can do?” 

She looks at him, looks him in the eyes and feels all the oxygen leave her lungs. 

She wants so badly to be honest, to wrap her arms around his waist and tuck her face into his neck, to sit here and breathe him in, to have him wrap his arms around her and pull her into him. She wants to melt back into that little piece of heaven they carved out all those months ago, and find that paradise again. 

Her hand shakes underneath his, and she prays he doesn’t notice. Because—because attraction is hormones, is dopamine and estrogen and a thousand other chemical compounds pulsing through her veins, mixing into her blood. 

But this—this feeling doesn’t come from any sort of science. She can’t pull it out of her body and study it, study the chemical bonds, the organic compounds, intra- and intermolecular forces between them. She wants all of her atoms pressed against Ben’s, to dilute the space between them until there is nothing left. She wants something _real,_ something more meaningful than staying an orbital apart from one another.

And maybe, just maybe, she wants to kiss him, to feel his smile pressed against her mouth. 

She can’t say any of this, of course, so she just shakes her head. “Just sit with me?” she asks instead. 

He gives her that same smile she wants to kiss as an answer. “Of course.” 

* * *

Devi wakes up on the anniversary of her father’s death with a pit in her stomach. 

She doesn’t want to get out of bed, doesn’t want to do anything today. 

Blissfully, it’s fallen upon a Saturday, so she doesn’t have to go to work, doesn’t have to pretend that everything is normal when she is barely holding things together, when she is feeling a gaping, empty space swirl around in her, like a black hole made of shifting sands. 

Still, she gets out of bed and showers, carefully does not let herself linger on the sadness in her heart, does not let herself wallow in sorrow and emotional distress. She’s strong and capable. She can do this. 

When she walks out of her bedroom she finds the kitchen quiet, deserted, an unfamiliar sight. Ben’s usually awake right now, breakfast already made and sitting at the kitchen island, filling out the crossword (in pen, cause the idiot likes to pretend he doesn’t make mistakes) and drinking his coffee as he does so. 

Devi spins around and creeps down the hall to his room, knocking on it gently. “Ben?’ she calls. “Are you awake?” 

There’s no response, and Devi carefully turns the doorknob and enters the room. 

It’s empty, his bed neatly made. The only sign anyone even lives here at all is the book on the side of his dresser, with a bookmark sticking out of it that shows he’s about halfway through. She walks over, dragging her fingers along the bedspread as she does, and glances down at the cover. 

Devi rolls her eyes. _The Emperor of Maladies._ Of course he would be reading this right now. He’s pretentious when he’s not even _trying._

Clearly, he’s not here, and she doesn’t think he’s anywhere else in the apartment, so she walks back out into the kitchen. 

She spots a piece of paper then, something she missed from afar, and picks it up. 

_David,_ it reads. _Gone to get some stuff. Be back in an hour._

An hour _?_ What the hell? 

But, she reasons. It’s her first time to have the apartment all to herself in like, six weeks. She’s usually the one who does the grocery run, preferring to get outside and get some fresh air whenever she can, but right now, she has her home to herself. She’s going to make the most of it. 

It takes her approximately thirty minutes before she realizes that having Ben here is a million times better than not, especially today. 

She can’t stop thinking about her dad and this is—it’s not exactly usual. But today’s a billion times worse, sticks out from the calendar like a rusty nail one can cut themselves on. It hurts her, scratches at the edges of her heart, rubs away at her walls roughly. 

Devi wraps a blanket around herself and burrows further into her couch, trying to go back to sleep, but every time she closes her eyes, all she can think about is her dad. 

No matter how hard she tries, she can’t stop thinking about him. No show manages to capture her attention for more than a moment, nothing distracts her. And—she’s usually had to go through this day alone, but after having gotten used to having Ben here and then having him vanish suddenly, she feels more alone than ever before.

She startles then, realizing she hasn’t bought flowers to visit his grave, and she hops up from the couch, grabbing her purse and heading to the door to go to the corner market. 

She’s got her hand on the door handle when she realizes she can’t visit him, and it undoes her. 

Devi’s purse clatters to the floor, and she starts to sob. She crouches, burying her head in her hands and crying. For the first time in ten years, she can’t visit her father, can’t bring flowers to his grave and sit on the grass and talk to him, can’t brush her fingers over his headstone and try and get a little better at dealing with the fact that he’s not here. 

Every year, she gets to say goodbye, all over again, and this year, she _can’t_. 

She’s well aware she looks utterly pathetic right now, crouched on the floor of her apartment building, by the door, crying, distraught, but—she can’t help it. She can’t visit her _father._

Devi’s so caught up in her emotions she doesn’t hear when her door opens, no more than a foot away from her, and Ben enters. 

“Devi?” 

She doesn’t look up at the sound of his voice, just tries to choke back her tears. 

“Devi, what happened?” 

She feels his hand on her shoulder, and it’s like a lightning rod, a lighthouse in a storm. She leans into it the slightest bit, and Ben notices, crouching down next to her and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into him. “I’m here,” he says quietly. “I’ve got you.” 

His hand strokes down her hair, again and again, almost like she’s a little child, but she finds the motion soothing.

She buries her face in his neck, like she’s always wanted to, and lets herself cry. 

He doesn’t complain once, not for a single second, just lets her cry onto his skin, probably messing up his t-shirt, annoying him beyond comprehension. He still doesn’t move. 

Devi finally manages to calm herself after a few minutes, but she doesn’t budge, keeping her nose tucked into Ben’s neck, breathing him in. 

His hand moves down from her hair to drag up and down her back, rubbing soothing circles into her skin as he does, and he shifts slightly so that he can sit down on the floor, pulling her down with him. 

Her arms are still crushed against his chest, and she slides them around to clutch him closer to her, unwilling to let him go. 

“It’s ok, Devi,” he murmurs, soft and quiet, in her ear. “Take your time.” 

Devi breathes, not wanting to lift her head from where it’s pressed into his skin, but also needing to see the brilliant blue of his eyes. 

Eventually, temptation wins over embarrassment, and she draws back, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “S—sorry,” she says, eyes darting up to meet his gaze. “I didn’t think you would be home so early.” 

Ben shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he whispers. She can see he wants to ask her what’s wrong, wants to ask her what the problem is and why he came home to her apartment and found her a sobbing mess on the floor, but he doesn’t. 

He deserves the truth anyways. 

“Today’s the anniversary of my dad’s death.” 

His gaze softens, and he tugs her closer, pulling her back into him so she can lay her head on his chest. 

They’re like a jumble of limbs, on the floor of her apartment, all tangled up in one another. She cannot imagine ever unraveling herself from him. 

“That sucks.” 

The blunt way of approaching it makes her feel a bit light, and she chokes a laugh out into the air. “Yeah, actually, it really does.” 

“I’m sorry, Devi.” 

Devi can’t get into everything her dad was to her right now, can’t tell Ben about how much she loved him and how much it hurt when she lost him—but she wants to. She wants to break open the bottle of her grief and show him it all. She wants him to know her, and it’s terrifying. She can’t tell him _everything,_ though.

But she can tell him why he found her on the floor of her apartment a mess. 

“This year is the first year I can’t visit his grave.” 

Ben’s arms tighten around her and pull her impossibly closer, crushing her against him. It’s so tight she’s on the verge of not being able to breathe, but that’s ok. Whenever she’s with Ben, she always loses her ability to breathe anyways. 

“Fuck, Devi,” he mutters. “I’m so, so sorry. That’s awful.” 

“I know,” she says. 

She feels his lips press a kiss to the top of her head, and she closes her eyes. “It’s one of the only ways I can talk to him. One of the only ways that I can feel connected to him. I don’t know, without it, it just feels like—something’s missing.” 

“Your dad would be so proud of you right now.” 

Devi jerks back in shock, not having expected him to say that. “What?” 

Ben runs his fingers down the side of her cheek, gentle, soft, barely there. “You want to see him, right? More than anything?” 

Devi nods. 

“And you’re not, because you know you have to keep people safe. Because you know it’s not safe for you to go out unless you need to. Devi, you’re doing the right thing. I know your dad would be proud of you for that.” 

“Then why does it hurt so much?” 

“If doing the right thing was easy, a lot more people would do it a lot more often.” Ben’s eyes glow with compassion, alive and willful. 

‘I guess you’re right about that.” 

“I’m sorry you can’t visit him, Devi. But you visit him every day. He’s always with you. I know it sounds cheesy, but it is. He’s not going to leave you, ever. You love him too much for that.” 

She nods. She’s heard some rendition of this before—from her mother and friends and even the priests, but from Ben, it feels different. Weightier, somehow, and maybe it’s because she knows Ben has not lied to her, will not lie to her, and it makes what he is saying settle in her instead of being carried away on the wind.

Devi sighs, closing her eyes. “God, I’m—I’m sorry, Ben.” 

“What the hell for?” 

She drops her head into her heads, more embarrassed now than before. “You came home to find your roommate in a sobbing mess on the floor. Probably not what you signed up for.” 

“I’m gonna be honest, David,” he says, the smile in his voice apparent, “I never quite know what I’m getting into with you.” 

Devi cracks her own smile at that, small. Lifting her head out of her hands, she reaches one of them up to cup the curve of his jaw, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. She doesn’t say anything for a few moments, more than content to sit here and stare into the abyss of his eyes, to drown in them until nothing else remains but him, but them. “I know,” she whispers. “But thank you, Ben.”

He doesn’t say anything in response to that, simply leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. 

She leans into his touch, tracing patterns on his shoulders with her fingers, and ignores the way her heartbeat seems to slow and calm whenever he’s around. 

* * *

Devi wakes up absolutely _freezing_ cold. 

She’s shivering underneath her blankets, and she doesn’t have many more in the house. 

Why is it so fucking cold?

Devi swings out of bed, wincing as her feet are blasted with cool air. She pads out of her room, rubbing at her eyes, and squints at the temperature gauge on the wall next to the light switch. 

_68°F!_ Holy _shit,_ it was cold in here. 

Devi narrows her eyes at the temperature gauge in annoyance and jabs at the button a few times. When the temperature doesn’t respond she tries again. And again. And again. 

Fuck. She’d had this problem a few times, back when she’d first moved in. The apartment tended to get stuck on a lower temperature setting, and she’d spent the night freezing, unable to sleep. Her landlord had fixed it the next day, all of the two times it had happened, but it happened _again_ and she doesn’t know what to do. 

Giving up on the gauge, she slumps back to her room, burying herself under the covers. She’s still fucking _freezing,_ oh my god. 

Devi grabs a blanket and drapes it over herself but—still no luck. 

She lies there for about an hour, about to fucking turn into ice, before an idea springs to mind. It’s ridiculous, at first, and so she pushes it away, tries to focus on getting to bed by burying her face in the pillow, but she can’t. She can’t get to bed. 

Groaning, she rolls over and sneaks a peek at her clock. _3:12._ Dammit, she needed to get some sleep, and she needed to get it now. 

There was no point in fighting it. 

Devi pulls back the covers of her bed and shuffles to the door, opening it and slinking down the hallway. 

She opens the door to Ben’s room, where he’s still sound asleep. 

How the _hell_ is he asleep when it’s so, so cold in here? She can’t even move, she’s so cold. 

She manages to walk over to his bed and poke him in the shoulder. “Ben,” she whispers. 

He doesn't even stir, and Devi resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Ben,” she says again, a bit louder, and pokes him harder in the shoulder. 

He jerks awake them. “Hmm?’ he mumbles, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He blinks at her twice, sleep muddled features confused. “Devi?” He yawns. “What are you doing here?” 

“Move over, Gross,” she commands. 

For once in his life, Ben doesn’t argue, just shifting in the bed to leave some space for her. Devi climbs in next to him, and _fuck,_ no wonder he’s not cold, he’s a goddamn human furnace. 

“Devi, what are you doing here?” he mumbles again, sleep already overtaking him. 

“The apartment’s cold and you’re warm,” she grumbles back, by way of explanation. 

“Oh. Ok.” 

He doesn’t even question it beyond that, falling asleep with ease, and Devi tries. Even though his bed is much warmer than hers, she’s still a bit cold, and even with him radiating heat, she can’t find a way to get warm enough. 

Fuck it. It’s 3:15 in the morning and she doesn’t want to be sleep deprived. 

So, she moves closer, slings an arm around his waist, presses her cold nose into his neck, and closes her eyes.

It takes her no more than a few minutes to fall asleep.

When she wakes up in the morning, she has the strangest sense of deja vu. There’s no headache this time, but the arm is still slung around her waist, and now, she has no qualms about who it belongs to. 

She tilts her head, sees that Ben’s still asleep, breathing softly next to her. 

Devi slowly slides her hand out from underneath the covers and gently runs it down the side of his face. In sleep, he looks so peaceful, so young, and yet, she wishes she could see the brilliant fractals of his eyes, watch as his mouth splits into that smile of his that she loves. 

She loves. 

Oh, _fuck,_ she’s in love with him. 

The realization, while a shock, doesn’t scare her as much as she thought it would. She’s still terrified of losing him, of course she is, but she’s not—scared of loving him like she was before. He’s her friend, one of her _best friends,_ and loving him was something natural, something that was bound to happen. 

It is like hydrogen and helium gas condensing to form stars after the Big Bang: an inevitable, necessary motion of events. 

Devi sighs and runs her hand through his hair. She wants to kiss him so badly, wants to wake up to him making breakfast and walk into her home to find him at the kitchen table, wants to be with him and bicker and laugh and fight with him.

She’d rather fight with him than do anything with anyone else. 

This time, though, she does not push him away. 

Devi pulls herself closer, relishes in the heavy weight of his arm on her waist, and sighs into his body, taking him in. 

For a few more blissful moments, there is peace, an unbroken, still silence between them. The scent of sandalwood surrounds her, the way his thumb just brushes the skin of her hip, the way his lips brush her forehead as he turns his head in his sleep. 

His phone buzzes on the table, and Devi, in habit, turns to glance at it, forgetting for a moment it’s not her phone. But the notification doesn’t matter. Seeing it still makes a stone drop into her stomach. 

_The CDC has officially declared an end to quarantine. With the successful development and beginning of the distribution of a vaccine proven to act and provide immunity against H11N5, American citizens may now freely leave their homes for non-essential tasks. Mask wearing is still legally required._

And the moment shatters.

* * *

When Devi wakes up the first day after quarantine feeling a strange empty lonesomeness in her apartment, she’s able to rationalize it alarmingly easily. She and Ben have been living together for two months, barely leaving her apartment at all, of course his sudden absence feels jarring and unnatural.

When Devi wakes up a week after quarantine has officially ended, a week after she and Ben have stopped cohabitating, still feeling lonely— that loneliness no longer a strange emotional blip, but a pattern—she realizes she is absolutely fucked.

She can no longer use science to explain her loneliness away. She can no longer find a justification for why Ben not being here makes her feel bizarrely sad.

Well, not a rational one, at least.

She misses the way Ben had already made himself coffee or tea when she got up, but always left enough in the pot for her to pour a mug. She misses the way he always sat at her kitchen island, laptop in front of him, elbows rested on the counter as if this was his apartment as much as hers. She misses the way he held her when she cried about missing her father, about how it was eating her up inside to not be able to visit his grave, how he said that her dad would be proud. She misses the way he let her rant about everything and anything from idiots who weren’t wearing masks to bad science on movies and TV and how his eyes gleamed whenever he readied himself to challenge her. 

One significant incident sticks out in her mind, when he’d woken her up early. She’d had a rough night and was exhausted, and she was so irritated with him for interrupting her sleep she’d thrown her alarm clock at him. 

Despite it hitting him in the side of his face, he’d just laughed, and told her to get some rest so she didn’t go throwing household projectiles at him for the rest of the day. She misses that. She misses how he’d known her, better than she knew herself. 

She just misses _him_. 

Deep down, Devi knew their situation was not built to last, knew that quarantine had to end eventually. The pandemic was caused by an influenza virus, for fuck’s sake, a vaccine was going to be developed and distributed sooner rather than later. Humanity had faced viruses like this time and time again and always emerged with a vaccine, a remedy, a treatment.

But selfishly—oh, so incredibly, horrifically, terribly selfishly—she wishes things hadn’t ended as soon as they had.

She wishes he was still here, with her.

Devi’s always been scared of her feelings. She _feels,_ with such intensity, such extreme emotion, that she’s not always sure how to handle them. She’s gotten better, has matured over time, but—love? That’s the scariest one of all. 

She’s never loved someone in this way before, never loved someone the way she loves Ben.

But, the longer she thinks about it, the longer she starts to see that she _doesn’t_ love him in such a different way. She just—loves him. Like a friend, like a partner, like _Ben._

She has to tell him, she realizes with mounting alarm, has to tell him how she feels, how he makes her _feel_ . How she just wants _him_.

Before she can give it any second thought, before her rational brain can remind her of how badly this could go, she’s slinging her purse over her shoulder and making her way towards the door.

She swings it open, ready to sprint over to his apartment when something, no someone, stops her.

“Ben?”

He looks exactly the same, albeit incredibly nervous, eyes as brilliantly blue as ever. He rubs the back of his neck. “Hi, Devi.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. “What are you doing here?”

Ben clasps his hands in front of him nervously and clears his throat. “I was back at my apartment and you know I’ve always liked it a lot, hell, I’ve bragged about it a lot. It’s a perfect size, has an ideal tenant to laundry machine ratio, everyone is nice and friendly and I just kept wondering why I couldn’t seem to occupy myself, why this place that I know I was so happy living before the pandemic hit seems too big for me and then I realized—” 

He pauses and Devi notices he’s wringing his hands together and then he reaches for her exerting a gentle pressure and—oh, he’s holding her hands.

“I missed listening to your insane rants about disaster plague movies, your rational anger about masks, I missed fighting with you and bickering with you and the way you placed a hand on your hip whenever you were about to challenge me. I missed that smug smirk you got on your face whenever you incorrectly thought you’d defeated me in an argument, the way your eyebrows shot up whenever I said something that annoyed you—”

“Ben,” Devi breathes, tightening her grip on his hands. 

“I just missed you.” He laughs wryly and glances frantically at the ground. “At first, I thought it was something purely logical, I mean we’d just spent two months basically only being in contact with each other, of course I missed you because I was used to you being always there.”

He swallows his Adam’s apple bobbing and finally, finally looks back up at her, blue eyes blazing with intensity. “Then this morning I woke up and I realized that I still missed you and missing you had become a pattern rather than a coincidence. And I know with everything that’s going on the world right now and with how much of a dick I’ve been to you at work over the past few years this is probably the last thing you want to hear but I need to say it.”

Devi feels her heart pounding in her chest as she watches Ben steal his nerves by taking a deep breath. Then another. Then another. 

She feels her anxiety skyrocket and is surprised that he’s still willing to grip her now ridiculously sweaty palms.

“I love you, Devi. I’m in love with you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone and I don’t know how to stop. You’ve gotten under my skin and—I don’t want to get you out.”

He squeezes her hands and Devi blinks rapidly trying to take in what she’s just heard. “You...love me?”

“I do,” Ben affirms. “You’re amazing and fearless and intelligent and passionate and you challenge me like no one else, how could I not?”

Devi wants to tell him everything she feels is mutual, but she feels like all the air has left her lungs so all she can do is choke out his name. “Ben…”

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, hell I couldn’t blame you, but… I needed to tell you how I felt.”

When she can finally, finally breathe again, all she can do is laugh. “Fuck,” she sighs, “you beat me.”

Ben blinks rapidly at her, his expression shifting from nervousness to confusion. “What?”

She laughs again, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I wanted to say it first.”

Ben furrows his brow. “Say it first?” he repeats.

“Oh my god,” Devi sighs with a shake of her head, “you’re an idiot.”

And then she leans in and she finally kisses him.

Kissing Ben reminds her, strangely (or, maybe not so strangely) of coming home, of finding him sitting at that damn kitchen island with that familiar smirk on his face, of waking up in the morning and smelling the coffee before she’s even stepped out of her room. 

Kissing him is like falling back into a rhythm, and it doesn’t make any sense, because she’s never kissed him before, but somehow, Devi knows she was meant to do this, that they were always meant to fall together in this way. 

When she pulls back from him, he’s staring at her, and then his thumb comes up to gently graze at her bottom lip. “You wanted to tell me you loved me?” 

Devi steps closer to him, sliding her hands around his waist. She leans in, sharing the space between them. 

Atoms pressed against atoms. “I love you, Ben. You beat me to it, but, considering I was the one who—” 

He cuts her off by pressing his lips against hers, hand threading through her hair, and while she normally doesn’t like being stopped in the middle of her sentences, she doesn’t mind. Not when it’s him. 

There’s a moment before Devi realizes they’re kissing in the middle of her hallway and probably pissing off all of her neighbors, so she curls her hands into Ben’s shirt and tugs him back, back into her apartment. 

They stumble in, and once he kicks the door shut behind them, he walks her forward, gently pressing her against her kitchen island. “So,” he quips, eyes dancing with mirth. “You gonna kick me out this time?” 

Devi pretends to think about it. “If you behave, maybe not.” 

“You didn’t succeed the first time,” he murmurs, lips just brushing hers. 

Devi smirks. “Aren’t you happy about that?” 

“Yeah, I am.” 

It’s the last thing he says before he kisses her again, and, for the first time in weeks, Devi feels like she’s finally come home.

**Author's Note:**

> your comments and kudos make us super happy! come talk to us on tumblr!  
> [leila](https://montygreen.tumblr.com)  
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